


lazy mornings

by treztine



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Post Stormblood, just girls in love, no angst for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treztine/pseuds/treztine
Summary: "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to distract me," Lyse said. The accusation crumpled into breathless laughter when Y'shtola's kisses found her neck."Distractions are rather necessary sometimes, wouldn't you say?" The other woman halted her affections, lifting her face to whisper against Lyse's ear, "Especially when they're well earned."





	lazy mornings

Lyse was a heavy sleeper.

That quality came in handy quite often, given how frequently she ended up in situations where sleep was a scarce and fleeting thing—cramped cots in stuffy inns, bed rolls on hard ground, and so on. According to the Warrior of Light, who usually shared sleeping arrangements with her during their travels, she could sleep through a calamity (and apparently also had a habit of snoring like _a goobbue with hay fever_ , but her dear Warrior friend was prone to over-exaggeration).

It was funny, then, that a single ray of light was what woke Lyse. That was her only complaint about her new room: the sun rose on the same side the window faced and had the nasty habit of sneaking in even past the closed shutters. Despite her protests, the others had insisted on putting her in the larger and slightly nicer room after she took charge of the Resistance. While she appreciated the gesture, she still made a bleary mental note to move the bed at some point.

Lyse rolled onto her side to hide from the light, feeling a bit annoyed by being awake so early for no reason. The feeling dissipated when, through her heavy-lidded gaze, she caught sight of the Miqo'te who lay next to her.

The sun was immediately forgiven for its intrusion when she saw how its rosy fingers painted thin strokes across the other woman's sleeping form. The bare shoulder that poked out from beneath the thin sheet, the elegant curve of her neck, the gold-tinged white of her hair—no part of her was spared from the sun's illuminating artistry. All aside from her closed eyes, of course, which were thankfully shielded from the incessant rays that had woken Lyse. 

She somehow managed to curb the urge to reach out and touch Y'shtola's face, determined to let the other woman sleep and enjoy her dreams for a little while longer. Instead, Lyse admired the contrast of pale lashes pressed against bronzey skin and the dark markings that cut harsh lines across her round face and the pink lips that parted slightly as she breathed a slow and soothing rhythm.

She soon found herself dozing again, lulled by her peaceful bedmate. The morning crept by in unhurried breaths. 

She didn't quite jolt back awake, but Lyse stirred rather abruptly when a memory pulled her from her reveries with all the urgency of a chronometer that chimed the hour: there was a meeting to attend soon. Being the newly anointed leader of the Resistance came with the unfortunate perk of being eternally busy—even on peaceful, lazy mornings.

With a quiet, begrudging groan, Lyse sat up, moving slowly as to not rouse her partner. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and lifted her arms up to stretch, finally appreciating the sun as it draped a blanket of warm light over her sore muscles.

"Up so early? How unlike you."

The soft, sleep-addled voice spoke from behind Lyse, droll as ever. She looked over her shoulder to see Y'shtola smile back at her. 

"Sorry if I woke you," Lyse said apologetically, and her tone turned more rueful when she continued, "I've got a meeting soon." 

Y'shtola shook her head as she sat up, stifling a yawn into her palm. She let out a thoughtful and almost sad sounding hum. 

"No rest for the righteous, as they say. Not even for the leader of the Resistance."

"Apparently not," Lyse grumbled in reply, stretching again in the hopes that the motion would squeeze the sleepiness from her body. Unfortunately for her, it didn't. "Who knew being in charge would be so much work!"

She turned her head when Y'shtola chuckled and watched her drape the sheet over her shoulders like a shawl. It looked more like the cape of a queen when a band of sunlight stretched across her head like a crown—but a bedraggled queen, given how messy her hair was. It was a far cry from her usual prim and proper appearance, and Lyse couldn't help but giggle at the sight. She reached out and ran her fingers through the disheveled strands to neaten them, catching sight of silvery eyes pointed to a light glower from the wordless teasing. 

Truthfully, Lyse could've stayed in bed with her love for the next moon, but resigned herself with a sad sigh, knowing there was much work to be done. She braced herself to stand and start her busy morning, but hesitated long enough for Y'shtola to shift into place behind her. The other woman wrapped her arms around her waist, enveloping them both in a warm, inviting cocoon of crisp sheets.

"My poor, dear Lyse," Y'shtola whispered into her hair, tone wry in response to her previous sarcasm. "Working so very hard," she added, and that part sounded genuine.

Lyse remembered very quickly that her partner was bare beneath the sheet when she moved to press herself against her back. Their skin was flush, with the only barrier between them being Lyse's own smallclothes. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to turn around and face Y'shtola, but was rooted in place by her love's gentle but insistent embrace. She realized the other woman was up to something when one of her hands began to wander. 

Y'shtola's fingertips grazed lightly against her side, leaving gooseflesh in their wake on their journey to her shoulder. She brushed the thick, golden curtain of Lyse's hair aside so she could plant a kiss at the base of her neck. It was a soft and fleeting thing, yet purposeful all the same. It drew a quiet gasp from Lyse, especially when more kisses soon followed. Each was more firm than the last, pressing slowly against sensitive skin.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to distract me," Lyse said. The accusation crumpled into breathless laughter when Y'shtola's kisses found her neck. 

"Distractions are rather necessary sometimes, wouldn't you say?" The other woman halted her affections, lifting her face to whisper against Lyse's ear, "Especially when they're well earned."

Lyse couldn't argue with that logic—not when a beautiful woman was pressed against her back and touching her so sweetly. She let out another giggle and gave herself over to Y'shtola's hands, enticed by her words.

"Well, if you say so."

When Y'shtola shifted away an ilm too far, Lyse almost protested at the movement, but not before hands were on her shoulders again, trailing down her back until they reached her breastguard. Fingers traced the hem for a bit, then moved to deftly untie the strings holding it closed. The straps were brushed off her shoulders with ease, and Lyse let the jumble of fabric fall to the floor.

"Undressing me? You _do_ want me to be late."

Y'shtola nipped her shoulder, and the bemused question ended in another gasp.

"Accusations will only make me go slower."

Y'shtola's words were like honey—rich and sweet and innocent, sticking in Lyse's ears and dripping down her back in warm puffs of breath. She thought to make a quip in return, but was silenced when the smaller woman pressed against her again. Her arms wound around her waist with the deliberate slowness she promised, thighs pressing against Lyse's hips as she held her in place.

Palms flattened against Lyse's stomach, then wandered upward to where they teased the skin stretched across her ribs. When they finally reached her breasts, Lyse inhaled a sharp breath. The other woman's hands pressed against her and her mouth was on her neck all the while, where wicked teeth pricked each and every nerve she knew would set her alight.

Lyse almost laughed at how giddy she felt. She would've pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming, but Y'shtola was doing a fine job of that on her own. She tossed her head back to rest it on Y'shtola's shoulder, which invited the other woman to kiss her neck more deeply. She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of motes of dust suspended in the golden light of morning that hung above them, and focused only on her love's affections.

Fingers traced senseless patterns across her breasts, pinching and groping and brushing against her with a purposeful gentleness that made Lyse arch her back to push herself closer to the touch that made her ache so pleasantly. She exhaled a shaky breath, feeling warmth pool in her lap not only from the rays of sunlight strewn across her.

When Y'shtola's hands stilled and dipped downward, Lyse couldn't help but whimper—both to mourn the absence of the tender touches, and in anticipation of the ones that would come next. The Miqo'te exhaled a pleased sounding sigh before her lips trailed up Lyse's neck, who gasped when teeth grazed her ear, which only briefly distracted her from the hands that traveled ever lower. 

Y'shtola's fingers slid across the tops of Lyse's thighs, then brushed against the insides of her legs to urge them apart. Lyse complied without hesitation, shifting in an quick, frantic way that made the other woman chuckle against her ear. The sensation of the sound did little to curb her want. 

"Eager, are we?" Y'shtola hummed, almost scolding, yet still achingly sweet. Her thumbs dragged against the hem of Lyse's smalls before they dipped beneath the fabric to brush against the curve of her hips. 

"You're making it hard not to be," Lyse puffed out after she gasped, and laughed when Y'shtola nipped at her ear. 

"Relax," she murmured. "We have all morning."

They really didn't, but Y'shtola already knew that and Lyse was hardly one to protest. Thoughts of the meeting had long slipped away, replaced by a deep, needy want. Muscle by muscle, she let the tension she hadn't realized was coiled within her unwind. The rest was smoothed away by Y'shtola's hands as they ghosted across her thighs and her hips and finally the ache between her legs. 

Her fingers dragged against her through the thin fabric, touching just enough to entice, but not enough to relieve. Had it been any other time, she would have called Y'shtola's pace teasing or even tortuous, but the slowness of it all was welcome—especially with everything being so hectic as of late that Lyse barely had a chance to breathe.  

Everything seemed to halt, as if time moved through the same honey that dripped off Y'shtola's earlier words. It was sleepy, lazy, uncomplicated—just hands wandering skin and warm breaths exhaled into hair. Though, when Y'shtola's hand finally slipped down the front of her smalls, Lyse couldn't help but shift her hips forward to meet it. She was rewarded with a light purr against her ear that made her shiver.

The conjurer's dexterous fingers found her aches and worked at them with all the deliberate patience of a chirurgeon who aimed to heal. Lyse breathed heavily and let a low moan slip out from between her bitten lips when the most sensitive nerves were tended to. The other woman's touch was slick with her want and brushed against her in such an immaculate way that Lyse almost lost herself within a few breaths. 

Y'shtola's free hand trailed back up to find her breast again, and the added sensation was almost too much when paired with the sharpness of fangs against her neck. But when the other woman's fingers suddenly slipped inside her, Lyse was proven wrong: _that_ was too much, or nearly enough so to make her cry out. She could've unraveled then and there if not for Y'shtola's unhurried pace. 

Fingers slid in and out, curling just enough to make Lyse whine, thumb grazing against her so gently that it almost didn't touch at all. Her own hands clawed at the bed all the while in a desperate attempt to keep herself anchored, though the duvet offered little aid in her plight. Y'shtola's hand was too deft as it traced the outline of her breast, her lips too soft on her ear, her fingers knowing too well how to make her body sing beneath her tender mercies.

Her release came slowly, building up at first like a distant wave that lapped lazily against a shore, before it crashed down with such intensity that Lyse almost thought she would drown in it. She tossed her head back in a silent gasp, breathless as the sensation overcame her. Then she was boneless and slumped against her lover who pressed a kiss against the crook of her neck while she rode out the feelings that made her tremble. 

Lyse was silent for a while. After a moment, she felt warm breaths against her shoulder as Y'shtola shifted behind her. When Lyse finally opened her eyes, she saw a sightless gaze look back at her, half-lidded in satisfaction. Overcome with sudden affection, she reached out to tangle a hand into sleep-matted hair and captured the other woman's lips in an open-mouthed kiss. 

"You're incredible," she murmured when they pulled apart. 

Y'shtola chuckled at the flattery. Before she could make a retort, Lyse had turned to face her and caught her in another kiss. With the full intention to reciprocate her love's affections, she reached out to brush her palms against the Miqo'te's bare hips and wrapped an arm around her waist to press them together. Y'shtola hummed against her mouth and Lyse felt a hand press against her shoulder to urge her back. 

"Don't you have a meeting to get to?" she asked her sweetly, almost teasing.

Lyse jolted back at the reminder, very nearly tumbling off the bed in her haste. She'd almost forgotten. The sigh that pushed past her lips was followed by a pout. 

"But how am I supposed to focus on paperwork and strategy after _that_?" 

"I have every confidence that you will manage," Y'shtola replied. She wrapped herself in the sheet once more and moved to lay back down, smiling with feigned innocence as if nothing had transpired at all. "I, for one, will take the opportunity for another bell of sleep." 

"Oh, no fair," Lyse whined. Despite how her body protested, she still managed to push herself up from the bed with a groan. "Get your sleep while you can! I'm going to come back later and ravish you," she added, shooting her love a lusty, yet still pouty look as she retrieved her long-discarded breastguard.

Y'shtola's silvery eyes peeked out at her from beneath the sheet she was cocooned in, crinkled with a smile. She looked quite cozy and unbearably sweet.

"I look forward to it, Commander Hext." 

The title sent a thrill through her when she caught the note of want beneath it. Lyse grinned, then bent over to press a final kiss against Y'shtola's forehead before she turned away to get dressed. 

Perhaps meetings and leadership didn't have to be so bad—especially when they were preceded by lazy mornings. Lyse smiled to herself, silently hoping that many such days spent with her love would follow.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you just gotta roll up your sleeves and write some more lyshtola.


End file.
